Lacrimosa
by Urchin of the Riding Stars
Summary: Hymns of darkness are sung in Pariah's hall, especially after the vengeful tyrant captures Danny Fenton after shattering his life-and another vital something by mistake. But Pariah Dark now bends before two masters: Regret, and Love. Pariah DarkxDanny
1. Chapter 1

dona eis requiem.

Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine,  
>et lux perpetua luceat eis.<p>

Grant them eternal rest, Lord,  
>and let perpetual light shine on them.<p>

No angels came to silence the screams omnipresent in these halls; this was no place for light.

The shadows in the ruined grandeur of the castle were not as portentous as they were mournful. The misbegotten servants were anxious in crossing the corridors of this lonely place, for the echoing noises of their footsteps seemed to beckon:

"Go! Go, leave this godforsaken place now! Flee! Flee, and never look back!

Go!

GO!"

Kyrie, eleison.  
>Christe, eleison.<br>Kyrie, eleison.

Lord, have mercy on us.  
>Christ, have mercy on us.<br>Lord, have mercy on us.

And oh, how the castle staff wanted to! They craved escape from exile-but the master of this castle would have none of it. From every turret to every enraged gargoyle glowering out of the shadows, from every spoon to every frightened ghoul-

Every single thing belonged to the master of the castle. Just as all belonged to him outside it.

There was no sanctuary HE did not own-no recluse from his power, nor his petrifying grasp. And he had decided long ago that all was his first. From your firstborn child to your life.

Everything and everyone, including the unfortunate soul still trapped in the Master's 'tower of special purpose,' belonged to the King. His temper was legendary; ghosts and humans alike were sick with dread when they were called to his presence. A serving maid who'd accidentally spilled water on the trail of his robe had been torn into pieces; and a specter who attempted to flee Pariah's Service had been burnt into cinders.

Dies irae, dies illa  
>Solvet saeclum in favilla,<br>teste David cum Sibylla.  
>Quantus tremor est futurus,<br>quando judex est venturus,  
>cuncta stricte discussurus!<p>

Day of wrath, day of anger  
>will dissolve the world in ashes,<br>as foretold by David and the Sibyl.  
>Great trembling there will be<br>when the Judge descends from heaven  
>to examine all things closely.<p>

But to many, that was preferable to what Pariah's 'special prisoner' received. Everyone kept their heads down when they passed the enormous tower where the Dark Monarch's famous prisoner-Danny Phantom-was being held. Some fearfully whispered that Pariah's rage over the ghost boy had been so great, death had been all too merciful.

What Pariah did when he visited that lonely little turret room, no one was quite certain. Food was always left at the door, so it was obvious that the king was careful not to kill him, but…

Why keep Phantom alive?

Danny Phantom had resealed the usurper inside of his tomb just two years ago-certainly the Master's bloodlust could know no limits. He'd finished off Plasmius just moments after he'd burned his chains into oblivion-

And the Ghost Boy's home was left in ruins.

He'd taken the Ghost Boy's broken body from the bloody, ashen remains of the Lab basement, and brought the Savior of the Ghost Zone back to his domain.

His servants waited for Phantom to be hurled into the dungeons; for Pariah to call for his most loyal and eager servants to begin the bloodletting.

But a serving boy had watched, wide-eyed from the gloom, as Dark cradled the boy close, a twisted smile looming over a pale face.

He'd ordered new clothes be tailored, a place of 'special purpose' be made for an 'honored guest,' and that none disturb him that evening.

No one had dared to disobey, even when the screams had started echoing out from the Tower.

The screams had turned to cries, turned to moans, both often conjoined.

But the laughing never stopped.

It was always ringing in his ears; it heightened with every new cry the caged creature exhumed when its master had come to torment him; it was present in the few, fitful hours of slumber that he managed to get in the (days? nights?) that slowly dragged on and on.

After Pariah was finished with his carnal act, the King would pull the trembling body close, and simply hum while Danny's life flashed before his eyes, and he wished, over and over again, for a rescue that never came.

He trembled.

He trembled, and he burned, and his screams had given way to brokenhearted moans in the darkest outskirts of the Ghost Zone, where no friendly specter gave ear to any torment but their own.

But worse then the pain was the humiliation that came alongside the pleasure. It sickened Danny, and frightened him, but the King seemed to take no better pleasure then hearing Danny groan for him.  
>The pain that had made Danny's mind go blank and made him see stars was almost preferable to having Pariah masterfully stroke and kiss him, being powerless under the despicable ghost's clutch.<p>

He cried for his friends and family. He'd even cried for Vlad.

But no one came.

Judex ergo cum sedebit,  
>quidquid latet, apparebit,<br>nil inultum remanebit.

When the judge takes his place,  
>what is hidden will be revealed,<br>nothing will remain unavenged.

This is what he told himself in the quiet hours he spent in a lonely vigil, but only his own voice ever answered him.

Pariah's initial intentions to cause the boy as much anguish as possible before a slow demise seemed to had changed. Pariah made many visits to Danny, but certainly didn't intend to starve him. When the King was in his more generous fits, servants would hurry and leave small, priceless treasures and ornate pieces of clothing in his beautiful prison.

It was enough to sway anyone but Danny.

When Dark thought he was bored, he'd even sent a sad, magnificent ghost bird in an enormous gold cage as a gift.

Either Dark was a greater sicko then Danny had realized, or simply enjoyed mocking him. Regardless, he'd still opened the cage to the sad creature, and watched it as it soared outside the window, twittering to itself.

Oh, he'd paid for that that night, but it brought the first sense of satisfaction the boy had felt in a long, long time. Somewhere, the bird was exalting its freedom and sense of purpose.

Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?  
>quem patronum rogaturus,<br>cum vix justus sit securus?

What shall a wretch like me say?  
>Who shall intercede for me,<br>when the just ones need mercy?

His hours alone at the window, when he'd at last run out of tears, Danny had to admit that Dark was brilliant in his ghastliness.

Death was so mundane; and so welcome at this point, he was tempted to simply stop eating again. But Dark simply shoveled food into Danny's gasping mouth whenever the boy started to get too thin, and whipped him bloody for his impertinence.

Rex tremendae majestatis,  
>qui salvandos savas gratis,<br>salve me, fons pietatis.

King of tremendous majesty,  
>who freely saves those worthy ones,<br>save me, source of mercy.

Some visits Pariah would do nothing but hold him. And Danny would do nothing but stare listlessly into space, with no choice but to allow it.

He can't help but notice, however,

Humiliating though it is,

Pariah is

Very warm.

Dark left for a few days on a trip to the countryside.

And Danny was left alone.

Preces meae non sunt dignae,  
>sed tu, bonus, fac benigne,<br>ne perenni cremer igne.  
>My prayers are unworthy,<br>but, good Lord, have mercy,  
>and rescue me from eternal fire.<br>Dark believed that Danny would not dare to disobey him by this point.

But Danny simply tipped his food and beverage out the glowing emerald bars, and continued to stare out into the darkness.  
>Juste judex ultionis,<br>donum fac remissionis  
>ante diem rationis.<br>He grew ill.  
>Righteous judge of vengeance,<br>grant me the gift of absolution  
>before the day of retribution.<br>When Dark came again to Danny, the boy was almost dead. In his rage, Dark slew dozens of his servants-

But Danny was hurriedly carried out of the glacial tomb.

In Pariah's own chambers, Danny lay in dark dreams

Every

Breath

Pained

And

Unceasing

Though Pariah's hands

Held him like  
>A small bird.<p>

Danny no longer recognizes himself as the Ghost Boy.

Or a hero.

He is just…him, these days.

When his fever broke, a great deal of sanity broke alongside.

And these days, is lead in and out of gardens by Pariah's strong hands, smiling slightly.

Confutatis maledictis,  
>flammis acribus addictis,<br>voca me cum benedictus.

When the accused are confounded,  
>and doomed to flames of woe,<br>call me among the blessed.

He doesn't speak.

His demeanor is

Innocent

Almost childlike in a sense,

And his eyes are

Blank and serene.

Pariah occasionally takes him as far as the human world, where small things-

Like finding a butterfly on a flower,

Or seeing the sky serene and blue,

Or noticing Dark's solemn and often uninterested presence-

Brings him great satisfaction.

Oro supplex et acclinis,  
>cor contritum quasi cinis,<br>gere curam mei finis.  
>I kneel with a submissive heart,<br>my contrition is like ashes,  
>help me in my final condition.<br>Pariah holds Danny's warm body, uncertain as to what satisfaction the boy drinks in from leaving the castle. There he has jewels lying in vaults, untold luxuries, and plenty of rooms for the boy to amuse himself in. It certainly doesn't take much for Danny to be entertained these days-he's not picky about food, and a small thing like a prism sending small rainbows scattering across the floor leave him enthralled for hours. Nonetheless, Dark's mercy or cruelty has reached its peak, and so, he keeps entertaining his ward, though Danny never asks a thing from Pariah, even in bed. Pariah can't tell if Danny remembers what intimate acts are exactly, but the boy doesn't seem to mind if Pariah gets perhaps a bit too carried away, or if there are violet bruises scattered on his body.

It makes Dark feel…strange, looking at them. It's a sort of strange that he can't really understand. After all: He is king. There is nothing he is untitled to do, and Danny is his.

Lacrimosa dies illa,  
>qua resurget ex favilla<br>judicandus homo reus.

Sometimes, however, he'll restrain with touching what's his for the evening, and simply watch the boy drift into gentle, senseless dreams. The strange feeling arrives again, but it's now reimbursed with something awful.

Something shuddering.

Pariah can't and will not die. He is now forced to bend to a higher power that vexes him continuously, and has bent even him.

He loathes it, fears it, but the guilt will not leave him. It infuriates him as nothing else has done, and threatens to destroy him when he's watching Danny slowly traipse along a meadow, mumbling inanely to himself. It baffles him-frightens him-but despite imagining wringing the boy's neck to silence this curse, he can never entertain hurting the teen again.

He's pathetic.

But it's when Danny turns and gives Dark a gentle smile that Pariah's other master-a much crueler and significantly more powerful one then the first-rears its beautiful, hideous head.

Lacrimosa dies illa…..

It's then that the king bows his head, and stomps over to Danny to see what new discovery the boy is so delighted about.

After all, when you're serving a hopeless love, what can you do?

Huic ergo parce, Deus,  
>pie Jesu Domine,<p>

Amen.


	2. OVA

_I thought this chapter had been lost a long, long time ago...I was delighted to find a copy still lurking in my hard drive a few hours ago. It's my older work, and in need of some improvement, but thought would submit anyway. _

_As of now, am no longer updating this piece. Just so we're clear, folks.  
><em>

* * *

><p>The scene before him made him sick inside, and the bile stinging his throat ignited the murderous twitch in his enormous hands to wring the life out of the boy currently cradled in his lap like a small cat.<p>

But soon enough, it had disappeared, and the Dark King was left morosely staring down at his charge in his winged chair, his emerald eyes wearily reflecting the cheerfully roaring fire before him. With a heavy sigh, he moved his hands-made rough by his leather gloves-to move the boy in a more comfortable position.

Danny cast him a blank, absentminded smile, turned his head to lean back against Pariah's spectral armor (a most uncomfortable pillow, but Danny will fall asleep wherever the king will let him) and closed his eyes again. He didn't seem to notice that his life narrowly escaped ending for the fourth time that day. Or care.

Then again, there's a lot that Danny doesn't really notice these days-the trembling psychologists that had been summoned to the castle from both near and far had noticed _that _much. Hopeless fools. If they weren't offering thousands of absurd, alphabet soup syndromes as to what might be ailing the child, they were kissing Pariah's boots, breathlessly praising him for his mercy as to allow them to leave the castle in droves. The vast majority can thank their lucky stars that Danny didn't throw one of his passions or his fits whilst being examined, else Pariah would have gladly had them dipped in oil and served for supper.

_Veni, veni, Emmanuel  
>captivum solve Israel.<em>

_Come, O come, Emmanuel,  
>and ransom captive Israel.<em>

He wasn't at all sure why he'd bothered; even in HIS own prime, anyone could see that the boy was simply mad. Back then, no one would have bothered with absurd terms like "_Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder"_ or whatever nonsense people were spewing these days. In his youth, Danny simply would have been dragged into a horse-pulled caravan, and left to die in a filthy, vermin-encrusted cell, if they simply hadn't accused him of being possessed by a witch, and tossed him into a lake somewhere.

So why hadn't he done likewise? He could never know, much less understand.

Sitting in one of his many parlors, Pariah watched an anxious servant hurriedly pile wood into the hungry blaze to keep it going, bow deeply, and scurry off. Still nestling against Dark, Danny cast the flames a warm look, but thankfully, stayed where he was. Much to Pariah's exasperation, Danny recently had taken up the bad habit of reaching out for things he found beautiful, such as a butterfly's wing or a gleaming, polished rock on the hilt on an old sword in the armory. Both of these things were relatively harmless, but more than once, Pariah had found a whimpering Danny clutching at brilliant green fire in his shaking hands, not willing to let it go, and not understanding why it was burning him.

Even a child knew enough to stay away from open flames! It horrified the lord, and because child-proofing this death-trap of a castle was impossible, he'd taken to haunting the boy's meek footsteps more often than he used to, putting off the treaties and petitions he had to review that day from his vassals. He scarcely ever had a free moment to breathe from the groveling hordes who couldn't understand to leave him well enough alone until he sends the Fright Knight galloping in their towns with a torch. That shut them up for a while, but because every rebellion and attempt to usurp him ends in their annihilation, they always return to him, pining. It wearies him, and he is somewhat glad for Danny's simple, often silent company. He'll patiently listen to the King rant, though he doesn't really understand what he's talking about. Then, he simply takes the sullen king in hand, and after being lead to wherever Pariah wants to go, the teen simply settles down, and affectionately rubs his smooth fingertips over Pariah's large palm. It seems to be the one gesture of affection that Danny can replicate anymore, because while embraces and the rare, stolen kiss make him smile, he doesn't really know what they are, or how to do them in turn.

In a sobering way, it was almost rather amusing; Danny couldn't hug, but he could clumsily make a paper boat, and send it down the dark, winding waters of the River Styx that surrounded Pariah's home. He could listen, understand when Pariah did not want to speak, or be shown a new treasure. He can cry over the most peculiar matters, such as when he sees the pretty butterfly he touched cease moving, and be well enough again in an instant, humming tunelessly as he dances down the hallway, his attraction caught by some shiny object.

He never asks for anything, nor does he fight back whenever Pariah loses his temper, and whips the boy. Danny only ever retreats in a corner someplace until, invariably, Pariah's cruel mistress, Guilt, comes to him with her hands on her hips, and Pariah has to search the enormous building for the teen.

One evening, when none of his servants could find the boy at all after Pariah had clocked the boy for making annoying squeaking sounds, the King had desperately torn apart his own chambers and suite in search of him, overturning every vase and suit of armor in his wake. He'd nearly torn apart a cowering maid who had the unlucky task of telling him that the kitchens had been scoured, but the boy could not be found.

_Qui gemit in exsilio, privatus Dei Filio._

_That morns in lonely exile here, until the Son of God appear._

But Pity, another irritating mistress, checked him, and at last, Pariah had found Danny alone in a meadow far away from the castle, absentmindedly poking at a small beetle in a patch of electric blue wildflowers. Normally, Danny cast miserable and apprehensive looks at the King after the tyrant struck him, but Danny's look of content bliss had all but broken his heart.

_Gaude, gaude, Emmanuel  
>Nascetur pro te, Israel.<em>

_Rejoice! Rejoice!  
>Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.<em>

Well, he supposed it would have, if he hadn't traded it to the devil some time ago.

Danny had had no problem in crawling into the man's arms, eyes serene-the same color of the flowers he had clutched in his hands in a small bouquet. Forgiveness came appallingly easy to Danny, considering he probably didn't remember that he had been wronged in the first place.

Pariah was disturbed out of his waking thoughts by Danny wriggling in his arms; was the boy hungry? He glanced down, took a fig from a nearby plate, and offered it to him. But the boy did nothing, other than give him an empty stare. Rolling his eyes, Pariah ate the fruit, and offered another to Danny. The boy contently took it this time, and even more gladly accepted the steaming cup of chocolate that the king offered.

Danny doesn't notice or care that the drink has cognac in it, but the boy sometimes has difficulty falling asleep at night, especially after waking from a night terror. While he never screams, (The fever had left his vocal cords permanently damaged) he would thrash about like a poor fish in their large bed, sweat pouring off from pale skin, gasping-never failing to accidentally stir Pariah in turn. Then, Pariah could sit up comforting the boy for hours on end, occasionally until dawn.

Fools and their modern-day medical science that bewildered the evil man to no end. The cognac at least kept Danny sleeping peacefully, which was more than those blasted sleeping pills one very unfortunate man had had the gall to prescribe for the child. Skulker could have thought up of less-gruesome solutions for his remains.

* * *

><p>To be frank, the present circumstances of his second glorious rise to power left him hollow, and he might have given in to the cargo load of scotch and spirits in the basement, had he not the 24-hour job of keeping the little halfa safe. His servant Fright loathed the task of 'babysitting' and complained tremendously of it so much that Dark at last suggested he pursue a different career-as his executioner's test dummy.<p>

Fright opted to keep his position, though Dark found himself more and more often doing these tasks himself. Around the holiday season, and the thrice-accursed holiday truce that was meaningless to him, he kept Danny around him when he worked, as it was simply easiest that way. He could hardly sign documents of _Agreeing to Nonviolence_ while the memory of Fright carelessly allowing Danny to play with beautiful, sparkling shards of broken glass plagued him, and compelled him to set his desk on fire.

He'd punished his vassal by making him eat those shards. If he'd been human, it would have destroyed him from the inside out. Pariah just might have done it himself in his wrath.

_Veni, veni, Adonai,  
>qui populo in Sinai<br>legem dedisti vertice  
>in maiestate gloriae.<em>

_O come, o come, Thou Lord of might,  
>who to thy tribes on Sinai's height<br>in ancient times did give the law,  
>in cloud, and majesty, and awe.<em>

Danny had been with him for seven months, now. Any rescue attempts had been hastily thwarted and averted before they could even turn to fruition. For while Pariah would have fought to the death to protect a single silver spoon from being stolen away for him, he would have destroyed the Earth if it meant retrieving the insane child from the humans. He sought out the boy's comforting presence more and more often, wondering if Danny were pampered pet or humble slave.

In the midst of all his work, Danny was, ironically enough, a tie to his own sanity. While he'd spent generations gnashing his teeth in that accursed grave, his new life-or afterlife, more precisely-was exhausting. He'd returned to simply make a point, and reap vengeance for what long-dead people had done to him years and years ago.

And, of course, to torment the people who had sealed him away a second time. He'd gone too far in his fun with Danny, however; soon enough, the child had been in too much pain to have much sense of anything else, and had finally, disappointingly enough, succumbed his mind to the shadows. Rather than kill him and be done with it, Pariah had kept the sad little creature alive, and it followed him about gratefully like a meek lamb.

It was in both parts infuriating and endearing.

His bursts of laughter had followed the boy when Danny had fumbled at the bars of his beautiful prison desperately, before Dark had dragged him back to the bed to devour. Danny had been forced to watch as his loved ones disappeared before his eyes, and Pariah had proceeded to strip the boy of his dignity, his freedom, and, unintentionally or not, his sanity. He'd become somewhat fond of watching the child continue to fight like a fledging bird under the weight of his chains, when others would have succumbed long, long ago to Pariah, and worshipped the king as a god. He'd had consorts-too many of them-when, once they'd ceased to amuse him, had wound up broken in the depths of the sea. They were conspiring harlots, all of them: former royalty of the Ghost Zone that hoped to become a favorite in court.

But no one had dared to defy him as Danny had done. Danny had stopped eating at the end, but he'd never once stopped flashing Pariah a cold eye, until the beautiful blue orbs had become glazed over with fever.

Eyes flickering, Pariah at last stood up, glanced at the clock, and sighed. It was now time. He'd explained what tonight's events were-though he very much doubted whether or not the boy actually understood-but he'd so much rather stay here until he decided to retire, maybe draw up a hot bath and one of Ghostwriter's novels to read aloud to Danny.

Tonight was the annual Yuletide Ball that even the most sadistic and power hungry of his predecessors could never forgo. His entire court would be present, and while it was a nervous affair, it was also a dirty and flirtatious one, with people disappearing behind tapestries every few seconds. Not that unlike the balls of his youth, but now, it left him feeling hollow inside.

He cast Danny a sympathetic glance, and stood up, pulling the boy up with him. The boy wasn't very good around crowds, but he hoped the teen would be willing to dance perhaps a ballad or two without going out of sorts.

_Veni, O Iesse virgula,  
>ex hostis tuos ungula,<br>de spectu tuos tartari  
>educ et antro barathri.<em>

_O come, Thou Rod of Jesse's stem,  
>form ev'ry foe deliver them<br>that trust Thy mighty power to save,  
>and give them vict'ry o'er the grave.<em>

When the boy was looking away, Pariah drew a small kiss on the hybrid's forehead, his own creasing as he loomed his head back. Danny was smiling at nothing, kicking his feet in the air, mumbling inanely to himself. He looked quite charming in his attire-like a little woodland fairy.

He wished that Danny would kick him, beat at him, scream at him, and scrape off his kisses once again. Now, he was no longer anything. Just existing as a hollow shell, and a child's broken heart.

The boy had sealed him back into darkness.

And Pariah had done the same to him.

But he felt no satisfaction.

His cloak sweeping the floor, Pariah marched out of his parlor, gruffly slamming Danny on the ground. Stumbling, Danny quietly regained his footing, and wordlessly followed the King outside, his once beautiful and translucent blue eyes now horrible, frozen blue orbs that nonetheless blazed with the tenor matching that of a world-weary old man all too numb to evil.

It didn't take but a moment for the pathetic king to stop, double back, and scoop up Danny in his arms, who was wriggling into them, smiling merrily again.

_Gaude, gaude, Emmanuel  
>Nascetur pro te, Israel.<em>

_Rejoice! Rejoice!  
>Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.<em>


End file.
